


Soup Restaurant

by justbygrace



Series: As It Should Be [22]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon verse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace





	Soup Restaurant

It's late, late enough that the street is mostly deserted even in this part of town where most of the money changes hand after dark, and Rose pulls her coat a little closer around her shoulder, a vain attempt to block out the November wind. She ought to go home, but at the moment she isn't sure what that even means and all she wants is something warm. Her fingers find the few coins she managed to snag from the bedside table and she knows they won't amount to chips, but there is a soup restaurant on the corner. It's nothing to write home about, but the manager won't make her buy more than a small bowl, no matter how long she stays.

The blast of warm air and delicious smells envelop her as she pushes open the door and the teenager behind the counter pops her gum and smiles - Martha, her name is, Rose thinks. The corner booth is deserted and Rose sinks into it with a small sigh of relief, peeling off her outer layers as her extremities begin to unfreeze. Cream of potato, cheap but filling, is her soup of choice and she pretends she doesn't notice when she tastes the bacon she can't afford - the people here have never asked more questions than she could answer and for that she loves them.

Her fingers are burning and her nose is dripping by the time she manages enough willpower to glance around at whatever other late night patrons are seeking shelter. She spots him at a far table, shoulders hunched under a tan coat, his face hard to make out under the dim lighting, but his gaze clearly set on her. For a moment she debates whether to offer him a salute or to see if she can keep him warm, but a new figure suddenly blocks her vision - tall, broad-shoulder, navy blue coat, and a grin designed to charm. She can't help but respond, her smile cracking her lips further, pulling at newly formed bruises. The man's grin fades and then intensifies and he starts in on a monologue she can't follow though the sound of it is soothing - American like the movies her mum used to make her watch with James Dean and Clark Gable. She wonders if the man is waiting for an invitation to sit, but, despite her earlier bravado, her birthday isn't for another six months and he doesn't look the type to want that sort of mess on his hands.

She finds herself overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion and she wants to apologize for yawning and blinking, but the man doesn't look worried and then suddenly the first man is there - a flash of brown and blue leaning in her space, and she ought to be frightened but she isn't. There is a whispered "Rose" and then her eyes close for real and she doesn't remember anything until Martha is shaking her shoulder with a "I hear Henriks is hiring" and it's seven am and try as she might she can't recall the faces of the men clearly. At least not until years later.


End file.
